Three minutes later Mrs. Hazeldine came in. She was just back from her drive. She found Vera lying back exhausted and breathless in an arm-chair.
"My dear, what have you done to Monsieur D'Arblet? I met him running out of the house like a madman, and laughing to himself like a little fiend. He nearly knocked me down. What has happened! Have you accepted him?"
"No, I have refused him," gasped Vera; "but, thank God, I have saved your 'Long Eliza,' Cissy!"
Early the following morning one of Mrs. Hazeldine's servants was despatched in a hansom with a small brown paper parcel and a note to the Charing Cross Hotel.
During the night watches Miss Nevill had been seized with misgivings concerning the mysterious mission wherewith she had been charged.
But the servant, the parcel, and the note all returned together just as they had been sent.
"Monsieur D'Arblet has left town, Miss; he went by the tidal train last night on his way to the Continent, and has left no address."
So Vera tore up her own note, and locked up the offending parcel in her dressing-case.